


In the Closet

by ikkiM



Series: A Whole Universe in a Closet [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Awkward Boners, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-02 06:35:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5238125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikkiM/pseuds/ikkiM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime Lannister finds himself in the closet, but he's not alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the Closet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JustAGirl24](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAGirl24/gifts).



> I wrote this for JaG to make her smile.

Jaime Lannister ducked into the closet. Not that he was _in the closet_ , as many suspected, he liked women well enough. He was just particular. But he had to avoid his father, who had just arrived at Olenna Tyrell's cocktail party. Had Jaime known Tywin would be attending, he would have found a reason to beg off. Instead, he found himself in an overfull coat closet. He stepped a bit further back ...and bumped into a large warm body. He turned to see his archenemy, Brienne Tarth, the woman who had the temerity to think she could out bench press him, hiding in the very same closet.

"What are you doing here?" he whispered.

"I'm hiding from Margaery Tyrell!" she hissed. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm hiding from my father!" he hissed back.

"Why Margaery?" He could feel her blush heat up closet.

"She—uhm—thinks that—I..." Brienne stumbled over her words.

Suddenly there were voices. Jaime pressed further into the closet and up against Brienne. She pushed back against him. He wrapped his arms around her waist. "Hush, they're coming," he commanded. She stilled.

And suddenly something came up.

"Get your hand off my thigh," she growled into his ear.

Jaime pressed into her closer. "That's not my hand," he ground out as he leaned into her neck, smelling the warmth of her skin.

She made a snorting noise of disbelief.

The closet door opened. A perfectly manicured hand grabbed for a hanger.

Jaime stepped even closer to the boner-inducing wench. _What the hells was happening with his cock?_

"Let me hang up your coat, Tywin," Jaime heard Margaery say.

He felt Brienne's breathing quicken. He felt her nose twitching in his hair. The wench was going to sneeze and reveal them both. He had to stop her.

Just as she was about to sneeze, he covered her mouth with his. She was so startled by his actions that her mouth opened and her tongue darted out against his. He held back his groan as he kissed her.

"Uh, Tywin. I'll have to put your coat into the other room. This closet seems fully occupied," Margaery said, her voice thick with disappointment.

The closet door closed.


	2. In the Car

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pickled made me!

Brienne jerked her head back from Jaime's as the car horn blared behind them.

"Fucking asshole," Jaime muttered as he floored it through the now yellow light.

That was the third time they'd almost sat through a red light on the way to Jaime's house. As least that's where she assumed they were heading. He hadn't said. Neither of them had said much at all. Talk really wasn't on her mind. She closed her eyes. _What the hell am I doing_ , she thought. Suddenly Jaime's hand was hot on her thigh, squeezing and massaging.

After what seemed like an eternity of kissing, groping and _humping_ in the Tyrell coat closet, he'd grabbed her hand and dragged her down the hallway, growling that he would not, would _not_ , have sex with her their first time while being suffocated by Olenna Tyrell’s moldy fox fur. Jaime Lannister, the annoying braggart from the gym, the most eligible bachelor in Westeros, the hottest man she had ever seen, wanted to have sex. With her. And not just wanted to a little. Clearly wanted to a lot. A _lot_ lot. A thick, hard digging into her thigh lot.

Her hand trembled as she touched his. He turned his hand palm up to grasp hers, twining their fingers.

"Fucking traffic. I can't decide if I want more lights so I can kiss you or fewer so we can get there sooner," he said as he turned to her with a grin. He turned back to the road, jerking the wheel to the right to avoid straddling the lanes.

She bit her lip and felt her cheeks heat up. This kind of thing happened to other women, running off for quickies and one night stands with hot guys. No man wanted that with her, not really. She was totally unprepared for this. A thought occurred to her.

"Jaime?"

He glanced at her before looking back at the road, "Brienne?"

Her name sounded different, even sexy when he said it.

"If we are going to...you know...I mean...do you...have ...anything?" She sounded like an idiot.

"Fuck," Jaime shouted as he released her hand and pounded the steering wheel.


	3. In the Store

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne stop off to pick things up.

Tires squealed as Jaime made a u-turn before cutting across two lanes of traffic to pull into the drug store parking lot. He stopped in front of the door to park in the fire lane. He jumped out of the car and ran around to open her door.

"This isn't a parking spot," Brienne admonished as he pulled her from the car and through the doorway.

"We'll be done and out of here before they can call a tow truck," he replied as he stopped in the protection aisle, still clutching her hand in his. He eyed the selection. “Preference?” he asked.

She stared at the array of boxes. She had no idea. Ultra-Thin. Super Sensitive. Ribbed. _What did that even mean?_ Dual Pleasure. That sounded fair. She pointed at the package of three.

Jaime nodded then reached below the hanging boxes to grab the supersize container of forty-eight condoms. He hefted it in his free hand. "This should last us a week."

Her eyes grew wide. "A week?" She was sure her voice had never sounded so high and wobbly.

He nodded at her. "You're right, better safe than sorry." He grabbed a second box. He handed both to her as he fished his wallet from his pocket. He pulled a hundred dragon note out and tossed it at the cashier as he made a beeline for the car. "That should cover it," he called out as the exit doors slid open.

As he opened the car door and pushed her inside, the store alarms began to sound.

Before she could even suggest going back inside, Jaime was pressed against her and all thoughts of being prosecuted for condom-lifting slipped from her mind as she sat half in the car. He kissed down her neck until he was sucking on her collarbone, his hands on her waist, over her shirt, under her shirt—and then he jerked away, turning to look back at the store.

A flushed cashier with the nametag "Podrick" on his worn red vest was standing behind Jaime with a few dragon notes and coins his hand. "Y-you can't park here," Podrick said. "A-and here is your change."

"Keep it," Jaime ordered before tucking her inside and slamming the door.

Brienne looked down at the condoms in her lap before looking up at the befuddled Podrick. And then Jaime was in the car again and they were off. He pulled into traffic. Horns honked. He put his hand on her thigh.

"You're going to get us killed," Brienne said.

"I'll keep my hands in the ten and two position if you put your hand on my leg," he bargained.

Brienne considered her options, looked at the rising speedometer and tentatively placed her hand on Jaime’s knee. He moaned and put his hand back on the wheel. "Higher would be nice, you know," he said with a grin.

"Take what you can get," she grumbled.

"Oh, I'm going to take everything you can give, wench." He glanced at the condoms and nodded smugly.

She felt her face heat up as he screeched through a tree-lined residential neighborhood. Two women pushing strollers shouted at Jaime and waved their fists in his direction. He tapped a button on the visor as he pulled into a driveway; the garage door began opening. He gunned it inside before slamming on the breaks. He turned the car off and unbuckled his seat belt. He turned to her. "We're here."


	4. And Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime finally gets Brienne home.

Brienne nodded although she had no idea where exactly they were. "We are. That is. Here."

Jaime fidgeted with the rear view mirror. "I suppose I should have asked if you wanted dinner or something first."

_Was he backing out?_ Brienne's eyes grew wide. Maybe he didn't want her after all.

"Oh, I well—dinner is fine—or—I—not dinner—home—"

Before she could finish her incoherent sentence he was on her again, kissing her, touching her, climbing on top of her, almost laying her down in the seat. He definitely wanted her, and she definitely wanted him. There was a loud thump as someone smacked the back of the car.

Jaime pulled back, "Fuck." He jumped out of the car. Brienne exited on her side and re-buttoned her shirt. She could hear him arguing with someone.

"Mrs. Bolton, I know I was speeding—"

A high-pitched female voice piped in. Jaime cut her off.

"My girlfriend and I..." Jaime went on but Brienne lost focus at the word ‘girlfriend’.

The voices continued and then Jaime was there grabbing her hand, pulling her towards the back of the car, and introducing her to a woman dressed in a pink velour tracksuit. "Walda Bolton, this is my girlfriend, Brienne Tarth. Brienne, this is my neighbor, Mrs. Bolton. She bakes." Jaime looked the plump woman up and down. “And likes pink.”

The woman smiled at her girlishly. “So someone has finally snagged Jaime Lannister.”

Brienne felt dumbstruck. _Girlfriend._

"Yes, Mrs. Bolton. I’m taken. You can tell all the neighbors,” Jaime waved his hand in the air, “and you'll be seeing a lot of Brienne in the future.”

_In the future._

"I'll not be seeing as much of her as you, Jaime Lannister," Mrs. Bolton replied as she looked pointedly at the boxes of condoms Brienne was clutching to her chest.

Jaime slipped his arm around Brienne's waist and pulled her close. "Exactly. Now if you'll excuse us..." He looked pointedly at the condoms, making his intentions clear.

Mrs. Bolton tittered her way down the drive.

Jaime spun her around and kissed her, crushing the condoms against her chest. He moved his mouth to suck on that spot on her neck. She wrapped her free arm around his waist and snaked her hand up his shirt. He pressed firmly into her thigh. He whispered in her ear, "I promise to buy you a lifetime of dinners and take you on a million real dates if can we please just skip it this one time. I don’t think I can wait to take you to bed, Brienne."

She caught her breath as one of his hands traveled up to unfasten her bra while the other roamed over her backside. She felt bolder than she ever had before. _Girlfriend._ She grinned into his hair. "I suppose. Just this once."

He laughed, bent his knees, grabbed the back of her thighs and pulled her legs around him as he lifted her and carried her inside the house.

"My wench." He breathed in her ear as he stumbled blindly down the hallway. One box of condoms split open, its contents falling to the floor, leaving a trail in their wake. She dropped her legs to the carpet and pulled Jaime’s shirt over his head as he randomly opened a door and pushed her through.

He was unfastening her pants as Brienne glanced about to check their surroundings. "Jaime," she said, tapping his shoulder.

"Mmm," he responded as his hand found its way inside her underpants.

"Why are we in a coat closet?" she gasped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad you enjoyed this little bit of fluff and nothingness. It's been such a slow week that something fun was needed.
> 
> Thank you all for your kind words and dirty minds.


	5. In the Bedroom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked for more Jaime POV.

_Warm._ Jaime’s thoughts were muzzy. _Soft snores. Soft skin. Happy. Sleep._

An hour later, _warm, squirming, pull closer, soothe, sleep,_ but the woman in his arms didn’t stop wiggling. He drifted into awareness. He kissed whatever part of her was closest to his mouth and pressed himself against her back. She scooted away and gently lifted his wrist. He clamped his hand down on her stomach. “Wench, what are you doing?” he mumbled.

“Sorry I woke you,” she whispered back, still trying to remove his arm from around her.

He shuffled even closer. “Thought I wore you out?” he asked. He could feel her skin heat up. He felt himself stir. He let his hand wander.

Brienne rolled away.

Jaime lifted his head. “What’s wrong?”

She swung one leg over the side of the bed. “I—I—just—have to,” her voice got even lower, “use the ladies’.”

He let her go and rolled on his back, chuckling. “It’s a big house, but I don’t have a his and hers. Hurry back.”

She stood up and scuttled off to the bathroom. Door closed, the quiet sound of a flush, running water. Jaime lifted both arms in the air, ready to hold her as she crawled back in bed. The click of the door opening. He flexed his fingers, motioning to her. He heard her approach the bed, but she wasn’t climbing in, on top of him, where he wanted her. He opened one eye. There she stood by the side of the bed, looking furtively around the darkened room, a white hand towel clutched protectively to her chest. He dropped his arms.

“What in the world are you doing?” he asked.

“I am looking for my underwear,” she hissed.

He let his mind travel back to a few hours before, pulling her from the godsdamn inconvenient coat closet into his bedroom, stripping the clothes from her body. He vaguely remembered the annoying cloth barrier: large, white and cottony, pulling them down her legs with his teeth. _Legs_. He’d thrown them somewhere. _Freckles, rippling muscles, thick blonde hair_. He looked down at the now tented sheet. He reached out one long arm and snatched at the hand towel.

“Jaime,” she growled, “stop.”

A small tug-of-war ensued.

Jaime grinned, “That’s my towel.” He eased his grip.

“I’m using it right now,” she replied, relaxing her own pull.

He surprised her with a swift jerk, causing her to topple into the side of the bed, landing firmly across his body. He wiggled his hips.

“Gods, Jaime,” she muttered. “Again?”

He maneuvered himself to kiss her, drew back and whispered in her ear, “We aren’t nearly out of condoms.”


	6. In the Kitchen

Jaime listened to the shower stop as he turned the sausage links and flipped the bacon. Brienne should have just shared his shower, but she had been adamant. _Ah well, there was plenty of time for joint showers later._  Yesterday, he had hid from his father specifically to avoid being introduced to potential girlfriends only to find one lurking in the Tyrell coat closet. He grinned as he cracked six eggs into a large bowl and whisked them together.

He should have realized it earlier. Brienne Tarth had annoyed him because she seemed to be everywhere he was: the gym, the weapons museum, the late movies, the Dothraki steakhouse. It was just that she liked the things he liked; she enjoyed doing the things he did. And once he kissed her... He dropped two pats of butter to melt in the egg skillet. He stuck the whisk in the bowl and turned at the sound of shuffling feet and a soft voice behind him.

“Hey,” she said.

There she stood, her wet hair carefully combed back from her splotchy freckled face, her lips too large, too red and too chapped. She was wearing a pair of his old boxers, her large feet encased in an old pair of tube socks. One foot was on top of the other. His soft white t-shirt was almost too small for her, pulling at the shoulders and outlining her small breasts. He stared and bit his lip. "Hey yourself."

She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. “Stop that."

Jaime raised one eyebrow. “Stop what?”

“That thing you are doing with your eyes,” she pointed at his head, “and your face.”

“I thought you liked that thing I did with my face.” He licked his lips at the memory. The red splotches darkened and traveled down her neck. _Hells, even her thighs were blushing._

She put up both large hands and covered her face. “Oh gods, don’t _talk_ about it!”

He grinned and stepped closer, wrapping an arm around her waist and kissing the hickey on her neck that he was sure she hadn’t yet noticed. “You liked it when I _talked_ last night, too.”

She exposed her eyes, so blue, so pretty, so perfect. He nudged her hands away with his nose. She whispered, “I _did,”_ wonder clear in her voice.

He kissed her. Her lips were soft but strong, clumsy and earnest. He pushed her up against the island counter. She moaned softly into his mouth, her arms snaking around his shoulders.

Suddenly, his stomach growled. He pulled back from her and looked down at his offending abdomen. He popped one more kiss on her lips and went back to the stove, pouring the eggs into the pan. “Breakfast will be ready in a minute. Could you grab the paper off the porch?” he asked.

She nodded. “I can do that. Get the paper.” She ducked her head as she smiled him and headed out of the kitchen.

He heard the front door open as he swept the spatula across the skillet. He grinned to himself. With any luck, he'd have timed the eggs perfectly.  _Five, four, three, two_ …

“Brienne!” called the out-of-breath voice of Mrs. Walda Bolton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of JaG's ability to push.


	7. At the Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter over filled with italics. And breakfast food.

Jaime plated the eggs, sausage and bacon as Brienne clomped back into the kitchen, single-socked, shirt askew and hair sticking out in odd directions, the paper in one hand and a pink gingham lined basket in the other. Jaime resisted the urge to kiss her.

“I ran into your _neighbor_ outside,” Brienne began.

Jaime took the paper and unrolled it.

“She gave me these _muffins_.”

Jaime took the basket. Cinnamon nut, his favorite.

“She asked me how often I would be _sleeping over_ ,” Brienne continued as she sat down.

He nodded. He’d convince her to just move in soon. Not yet, of course. Brienne was skittish.

“She invited me to _book club_ on Tuesdays and _Bunco group_ on Thursdays.”

Jaime poured Brienne some juice and placed two muffins on her plate. He thought it was Mrs. Bolton’s wine night on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

“I don’t even _know_ what Bunco _is_.”

Neither did he. He handed Brienne a fork and then took a bite of eggs as she continued.

“She invited us to a neighborhood _barbecue_ at her house on _Saturday_. She said her husband had killed a _pig_ and they were going to _roast_ it.”

Roose Bolton _was_ quite the hunter. Jaime shoved a slice of bacon in his mouth.

“She asked me if we could bring a _side dish_ , preferably a _salad_ because she has _desserts_ covered and the _young Tarlys_ always bring chips and dips.”

Gilly did make a fabulous onion dip. He peeled the paper back from his first muffin. “What did you say?”

Brienne answered through a mouthful of eggs. “Fruit salad.”

Jaime buttered his muffin. “Good call. Potato salad doesn’t hold up well in the heat.” He took a bite of delicious cinnamon-nutty goodness.

Brienne looked down at her plate of food, then at Jaime, Jaime’s plate of food, the basket of muffins, the butter. She reared back. “You _planned_ that,” she accused.

Jaime pointed his half-eaten muffin at her. “Walda Bolton has been trying to set me up with her relatives for years, Janyce, Mylenda, Cynthea, Bradamar. I’m making sure she knows I’m completely off the market.” He shoved the remainder of the muffin in his mouth with a satisfied smirk.

Brienne turned a delightful shade of red. She took a bite of bacon and sausage together, sipped her juice and ducked her head, mashing her eggs with her fork. “I mean—are you? I guess—yesterday we—now—different—I—are we—I mean— _dating_?” She glanced up at him through the wild tangle of hair invading her forehead.

He linked his fingers with hers. “I want to more than date you, Brienne.” He kissed her knuckles. “I want to date _only you_.” He looked into her eyes, awaiting her answer.

She shoved a bite of muffin in her mouth and looked at their linked fingers. She chewed then nodded. “Okay,” she mumbled, a muffin crumb landing on her chin.

He grinned as he exhaled. “So does that mean you’re up for a meet-and-greet of the neighbors on Saturday?”

“Let me check my pho—” Her voice trailed off as her face turned white. “Oh gods, Jaime, I left my phone and keys in my jacket pocket.” She sucked in air. “That I left _in Olenna Tyrell’s closet_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Walda coming over, plying Jaime with baked goods, trying to set him up with her relatives was all JaG's idea. :)
> 
> Edit to add, I've never played Bunco in my life, but it appears to be thing that happens in my neighborhood. And technically, it does not involve alcohol.  
> http://www.wikihow.com/Play-Bunco


	8. And Back

Brienne looked at her reflection in the car window as Jaime expertly maneuvered his SUV towards Highgarden Estate. She didn’t _look_ any different, face full of freckles, nose crooked, lips too full. How could she _feel_ so different? A blue dress shirt hid the marks on her neck. Jaime’s shirt. Her _boyfriend_ , Jaime. It seemed unreal to think of him that way instead of as the annoying guy at her Pentoshi place, biking her favorite trails, picking through her favorite fruit at the farmer’s market, but the transition seemed so natural.

Now they were headed to retrieve her jacket. She had wanted to call a locksmith and get a new phone. Jaime thought that ridiculous. They’d argued, eventually agreeing to go together and he would answer any embarrassing questions.

Jaime then declared that they had weathered their first fight and must have makeup-sex. And they did. _Twice_. Her face flamed at the memory. She looked over at him, his hands, his mouth, his—

“I’m not sure what you’re thinking about that has you that shade of puce, but I can guess.” He waggled his brows suggestively.

Brienne blushed even harder. “Shut up,” she said and turned back to the window, allowing herself to smile. Without moving her head, she eased her hand across the console to place it lightly on his leg. He made his now-familiar happy noise.

It seemed only a moment before they were standing on the front steps of Highgarden, one of Jaime’s hands on the small of her back, the other reaching out to ring the bell. She stopped him.

He raised a single brow.

“I have an idea,” she said. Maybe they could avoid people altogether. She tried the handle of the door. _Unlocked_. She turned to him with a grin as she slipped inside the house.

“You naughty wench,” he whispered as they snuck down the hall.

“My name is Brienne,” she growled. She’d just opened the closet door when she heard male voices heading towards them. On impulse, she grabbed Jaime and pulled him inside.

“Back at the scene of the crime?” he said.

She placed a finger against his lips as she stepped closer to him. She put her arms around his waist and leaned into him. He pressed his whole body into her and rested his chin on her shoulder.

And suddenly something came up.

Brienne bit back her grin and whispered softly in his ear. “Get your hand off my thigh.”

Jaime chuckled. “That’s not my hand.” He turned her so her back was against the door and kissed her.

The voices drew closer. Brienne smothered her groan as one of Jaime’s hands managed to find its way to the bare skin of her side. His other hand traveled down her leg, lifting her knee.

Suddenly the door gave out and she was stumbling back into the hallway, pulling Jaime with her.

Throats cleared. Brienne closed her eyes in abject mortification.

Jaime spoke in his most aristocratic Lannister voice, “Loras. Renly.”

She opened her eyes.

“Jaime. Brienne,” Renly greeted them.

Loras nodded dismissively and crossed his arms.

Jaime grabbed her jacket from the closet, draping it over his arm. He put his other arm around her shoulders. “I think we’re done in there, boys.” Jaime slowly and deliberately slid his hand down her spine and over her bottom, ending with a firm squeeze.

Brienne jumped.

Renly snickered.

Loras recoiled.

As they made for the door, she heard Renly say, “I always thought one day Jaime Lannister and Brienne Tarth would come out of the closet. I just never thought it would be literally. And _together_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go...a few emails to make people smile and here we have a silly, fluffy fun fic. I hope you've enjoyed it.


End file.
